Out of Reach
by aleecemo
Summary: Or the 5 times Doyle reached and failed. A little look into Doyle's life. I liked Doyle's character and was frustrated by the lack of background and his pointless death, so I wrote this to appease my imagination. Parts One and Two are up. Please R&R
1. Chapter 1

1.  
>They were arguing again. He could hear the shouts drifting from the kitchen even as he hid inside his closet, the darkness surrounding him in a comforting blanket. Stephen knew that normal kids were usually scared of the dark, that they found it suffocating and formidable, but he found comfort in the endlessness that was darkness. Darkness had no end, and knowing that it went on forever and ever allowed him to hope that there was more in this world than their farm, but he just couldn't see it yet.<p>

He knew that his momma didn't like their farm, hated the endless fields surrounding their little house, but he also knew that she loved his papa enough to stay. Sometimes their arguments ended quickly, but on nights like these, where there was nothing around them but dust and wind, Stephen knew to hide in his closet and wait for the storm to end. The sound of the dust whipping against the walls was almost comforting, a steady _whipwhip_ that could drown out the yelling if he focused hard enough. He wondered what would be left if the storm never ended, if their house was buried under mountains of dust with his family inside it. He imagined what the explorers would find; his momma, a desolate look in her eyes, his papa, eyes draped with exhaustion, and himself, crouched tiredly inside his closet.

The sound of the door slamming jolted Stephen out of his daydreaming, and he frowned. The door never slammed in their house. He listened for the voices of his parents, but found only silence. Confused, he crept out of the closet, and quietly padded to the kitchen, hoping to find his parents leaning towards each other in apology just like at the end of all their other arguments. Peeking around the corner of the doorway, Stephen instead found his papa sitting at the table with his face in his hands; his shoulders drooped down in defeat.

Before he could start wondering where his momma was, the sound of their truck starting could be heard dimly over the screeching of the wind. Suddenly scared, Stephen quickly ran to the front door, ignoring his papa's outstretched hands, and wrenched open the door. He was immediately assaulted by the sharp sting of dust being thrown at him, but all he could see was his momma inside the truck with tears streaking down her face. She looked at him once, despair in her eyes, before she turned the truck around and drove away. Stephen started to run, he ran as fast as he could, yelling for his momma to stop, to come back, to _stay, _but no matter how fast he ran, no matter how much he screamed, his momma kept driving, driving away. Eventually, the dust in his lungs and the tears in his eyes forced him to stop running, and he could hear his papa yelling for him, but all he could do was collapse in the dust, his hand still reaching out in front of him.

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><p>AN.  
>There will be around 5 parts to this story. Updates may be sporadic.<br>Because Doyle didn't have a first name in the movie, I named him Stephen after Stephen Hawking.  
><em>Please <em>review, criticism is welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

2.  
>Stephen normally followed the rules. After all, they were made for a reason. But today, he ignored the bright red "DO NOT ENTER" sign chained across the stairs, and crouched under the chain before walking up the steps. Reaching the ladder, the rung felt rough and rusted under the palm of his hand.<br>The water tower was an old structure that had been built long before blight destroyed any crops, and could be seen from all the fields crowded around it. When he was smaller, his father had always said to him "If you ever get lost Stephen, head straight to the tower and I'll be there waiting for you, cross my heart".

Looking up at the long, rusted ladder, Stephen placed his foot on the lower rungs, and started climbing. His arms and legs kept moving and moving and pulling himself up higher and higher, the emptiness of the night surrounding him. The higher he climbed, the closer the stars seemed, twinkling benevolently down upon the miles of corn, a lone boy climbing a water tower the sole anomaly. He was staring at the stars when he reached the top of the tower, and he pulled himself onto the slightly sloping top, before crawling on his hands and knees to the very tip, dust lining his clothes. Falling onto his back with a _whoomph_, he looked up at the sky, the never-ending darkness providing him with its shroud of comfort.

And he cried.

The funeral had been small.  
>He had stood quietly at the edge of the grave, watching as his father was lowered into the dry ground. His grandmother had been sobbing quietly, her hand clutching his as the final clump of dirt landed on the top of the mound that was his father's resting place, but he saw only the scattered guests, looking at him in sadness and pity. There were only 6, neighbouring farmers who came more out of courtesy than actual grief, and Stephen hated all of them. None of them cared about his father, cared about him, so why did they come? Why did they come when his own mother hadn't?<br>As soon as the service had ended, he had taken his grandmother's arm and guided her to the car, his face dry and his chest empty. They had spent the rest of the day in silence, but at night, he had heard his grandmother's muffled sobs from the room next to his.  
>He'd wondered briefly why he wasn't crying; why the fact that he was never going to feel his father's rough hands squeeze his shoulders ever again didn't make him cry, when he couldn't take the sound of his grandmother's grief anymore and quietly left the worn home. He had initially only wanted to walk around the fields, when he had spied the light of the moon shining off the metal tower. And so he had walked and walked and walked until the tower had been standing tiredly in front of him.<p>

As he stared up into the darkness, his father's words repeated over and over again in his head as the tears dripped silently down his face. He was lost, but his father wasn't waiting for him here. Why wasn't he here? All of a sudden his chest hurt, and he felt a lump rise in his throat, making it hard for him to draw breath. And in the silent of the night, Stephen started sobbing, sobbing for his dead papa and absent momma, and for all the times he would never hear an '_I love you' _from his father's warm voice again. As the night grew cooler, his sobs finally stopped, and he stared up at the stars. He wondered if that was where his papa was, if he was smiling down upon him, hidden in the darkness. '_One day'_, Stephen thought to himself,' _One day, I'll go up there to find you'._

Taking one final, long look at the endless sky, Stephen finally made his way down the tower, thinking absently of his grieving grandmother at home, when he felt the rung snap under his foot. His balance lost, he toppled backwards, and he reached desperately for something to hold onto. He cut through the air, arms fruitlessly swinging, when he landed painfully on the grass at the bottom of the tower. The wind knocked out of him, he felt his shoulder screaming in pain, and he closed his eyes slowly, hopelessly wishing something had reached back.

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><p>AN:  
>Part two done and dusted.<br>I hope it wasn't too bad, please review :)  
>Criticism is welcome.<p> 


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